The War Years
by Corazie
Summary: All is fair in Love and War, yeah? Emily reflects on the events that followed two years of studying at Roundview College. Naomily... Or is it?
1. Goodnight, Sweetheart

**The War Years**

It was a different time back then. There was no war for a start. Everything was just a game really, for all of us. We were young and care-free. We were at the centre of our universe. The whole world was our future. The whole world was ours.

* * *

It was after we left Roundview College that the war started. The British Armed Forces were elsewhere at the time, settling disputes in other countries as usual. It was very easy for the enemy really. They set off a few bombs in London. Cut off electricity supplies to a few places. Hacked a few computers. Then they invaded. It was alright really. Didn't bother us. We didn't really notice at first, in all honesty. We still had electricity for the most part and the buses were still running and the petrol stations were still supplied with petrol and diesel, the supermarkets were still bursting with food.

Still, I'd always been the cautious one. As soon as I heard what had happened in London, I was straight down to the shops, buying bottles of water and tins of food and blankets and extra underwear. The whole thing with the bombs had been too well executed to have been a terrorist attack, and no one was admitting to it. I spent pretty much all of my money, making about fifty trips backwards and forwards in Cook's van. It's a good thing I did though, because a little over a week later panic took over. The shops were suddenly running low on essentials and prices were sky high. It was official; the country was in the midst of a war.

But the troops that patrolled the streets and kept the peace weren't our own. Only a few could speak English.

For the first time since 1066, England was an occupied country. Only this time, it wasn't the French.

* * *

I remember hiding all of the food in the attic one night.

It had been announced on the radio that rationing was to be brought in and any "spare" food was to be handed in. Me and Katie and Freddie and Naomi all climbed up in to the cold space and started pushing cans and bottles and tins and jars down towards the eaves, where the roof met the floor of the attic. We piled insulation on top of our supplies and they were hidden. Every few minutes Naomi would flash a smile at me and I would be even more grateful that I'd stocked up before the panic set in.

When it was all done and we were back downstairs huddled on the couches in the living room, watching the news and the continuing reports of resisters to the occupation being severely punished as a warning to all, we made a pact to stay together throughout the war, no matter what happened. I should have seen it as a premonition of what was to come but at the time we were pleased with ourselves, chuffed that we'd managed to avoid having to hand in our precious supplies. And I was in love with Naomi.

* * *

About a week after we'd hidden our supplies in the attic and were being handed our meagre weekly rations, Naomi decided that she was going to try and leave the country.

"I'm going to Ireland, Emily. And once I'm there, I'll be able to help with the plans." She looked into my eyes as she said this, holding my hands in hers.

Everyone knew about the plans, but nobody spoke of them. To do so would be to single yourself out as a resistor and then you were in trouble. Resisters were no longer punished... They were killed. I knew that if Naomi was caught on her passage to Ireland that she would be killed. She was a civilian prisoner, just like every other person in the country.

But that stupid political mind of hers could not be swayed, no matter how I pleaded with her. No matter how loudly I screamed at her. No matter how many tears I shed.

"Don't do this to me! I need you, why can't you see that? I love you! I need you here." It was the same words I relayed to her time and again over the final week before she left, just one month after the country was invaded.

"Don't be so selfish, Emily! You think you're the only person in the world that matters, don't you? Well you're not! I matter, and everyone in this country matters. You're just a silly little girl who thinks far too much of herelf!" She had snapped finally, after days of my pleading. She was shouting. She wasn't being fair and we both knew that, but I wasn't being fair either. "I'm actually going to do something about this. But you. You are going to sit around in this pokey little house and play Land Girl while others try and even die to try and save our future. I really can't believe you, Emily Fitch. I always thought you were different from your bitch of a sister, but all along you've really been exactly the same. A selfish, spoilt little cow who's so far up herself that she can't what's directly see in front of her!"

I was stunned. Shocked into silence. She picked up her canvas bag and left that night. I didn't even say goodbye or give her a final kiss. She broke my heart and at the same time she set me free. She'd restrained me slightly, all through the relationship. It had always been her call. Every good idea had been hers. It was always her way or no way. I thought that I had been on equal terms, but that night I realised that our relationship had been a mirror of every other relationship in my life.

Goodnight, Sweetheart.

* * *

Should I leave this as a one-shot or continue it? It's been buzzing around in my head for a long time and I do have ideas for future chapters.


	2. Cleansing

**The War Years**

It was a different time back then. There was no war for a start. Everything was just a game really, for all of us. We were young and care-free. We were at the centre of our universe. The whole world was our future. The whole world was ours.

* * *

Before Naomi decided to be a political warrior and leave for Ireland, we went clothes shopping. Katie was still acting a little frostily towards Naomi, but I guess my twin has always been able to see through people; I think it's the intuition that comes from being devastatingly popular for most of your life. It was a queer group that sat on the bus. Me and Naomi. Katie and Pandora. Effy. That was the last thing we ever did together, all of us, just the girls. I wish we'd taken more time, argued less, taken some pictures, talked... But it was the typical mess that happens when you throw a group such as us together.

It had been my idea. Ever practical little Emily. Even then Naomi taunted me, saying that I was a little Land Girl. I took it as a compliment rather than the insult she so obviously meant it to be. I'd figured that if food was going to be cut off, rationed, then the same would happen with clothes. We bought bags and bags of underwear and socks, heavy jumpers and thick jeans. Katie dragged us in to the side streets, to the vintage shops and I could tell what was happening. Any excuse for Katie, really, to start a new trend. 1940s vintage would, thanks to Katie, soon be the "in-thing" for Fashionistas. Not that there were many of those during the war. I picked up an old fur coat, real. And although I baulked at the prospect at first I am glad I bought it. It certainly proved much warmer than anything synthetic in that first winter.

By the end of the shopping trip we were out of money and weighed down by Doc Martens and winter clothes, even bikinis and swimming suits, despite the summer ending. Pandora and Effy came back with us, and we settled in the living room of our student house, drinking tea.

* * *

I remember everyone sleeping together in the living room one night.

We had realised what the war actually meant, as we watched the death toll rise each day on the news beamed out by the Occupiers. We had decided that we should do something together, something to remember before, well, something happened. Tensions were rising all around us.

It was two nights before Naomi left, and the last night I spent in her arms. I didn't tell her that I loved her as I curled up next to her under the quilt. I just closed my eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

For days after Naomi left, I walked around as a shadow of myself. I let my hair become lank and greasy, knotted because I couldn't even bring myself to brush it. Eventually Katie grabbed me by the elbow and took me in to the bathroom. She'd run me a bath.

"Stop dwelling on her. She obviously didn't love you if she left." She said it with no emotion and started helping me out of my cardigan. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a beehive and a pin roll nestled next to her fringe.

"I... I'm so scared. What if I never see her again?" My voice broke and I cried. I had been so strong that initial night, the night she left. But my heart just wasn't in it now. She was gone and so was my strong personna.

"Emily. You're the practical one. You need to stop this. Right now. Stop this and get in the bloody bath because you stink and your hair is minging." I heard the smile in her voice towards the end of her mini-speech and it made me smile for the first time since Naomi left. "Go on. Finish up yourself."

I was in my underwear as she left the bathroom and pulled the door closed behind her. I removed the last of my clothing and stepped in to the bath, sinking in to the delicious warmth of the water. I took a deep breath and leant back, my head under water. It was so comforting, I wanted to stay there forever, it was a wonderful feeling under the water. I decided then that I should take up swimming.

I washed myself, scrubbing my skin to a fierce pink. I washed away every trace of Naomi that could have possibly survived my week long grief. It was like a ceremony as I cleansed myself of her, those last words playing on repeat through my head.

* * *

Autumn had well and truly settled in, and I only noticed as I stepped from the bath and reached for a towel, the chill air hitting my skin.

I dressed quickly once I'd padded barefoot to my room, in a white vest top, blue skinny jeans and a purple cardigan. And tears tickled my eyes as I dragged a brush through my hair, and this time not for Naomi. The pain of the tangles and knots was terrible and it took me almost half an hour to tease them out. I might not be making an effort, but at least I'd look presentable, and I could definitely get over her now. I'd done my mourning for our dead relationship.

I went downstairs and in to the kitchen, flicking the kettle on and pottering about gathering a teapot, tea bags and milk as I waited for the water to boil. Katie had gone out, so had Freddie, and with Naomi gone I was alone. I was staring out of the window as the kettle clicked, and had just finished pouring the water in to two cups when the pounding started on the front door.

I was terrified, but knew I had to open it. It could be troops and I didn't want to get in trouble.

I opened the door and looked down to see a tiny figure still pounding with her hand against air from the slumped position on the floor. It was Effy and she looked terrible. Her face was smudged with mascara, her hair was tangled worse than mine had been. She was sobbing, out of both breath and tears. There was dried blood smeared across her right arm.

I grabbed her under the arms and dragged her inside, slamming the door.

"Cook..." She looked up at me, devastated. I sank down to the floor and wrapped my arms around her skeletal form.

* * *

I struggled a little, writing this, but I'm still undecided about where to take this.


	3. Drinking Tea

**The War Years**

It was a different time back then. There was no war for a start. Everything was just a game really, for all of us. We were young and care-free. We were at the centre of our universe. The whole world was our future. The whole world was ours.

* * *

Whenever I think of Cook and when I last saw him, I cry. It was back when I'd borrowed his van to gather and transport supplies, he'd laughed at first but finally handed me the keys, offering to help me cart the stuff into the house.

On my third journey he asked me something that I still don't know the answer to. "Why do you do it, Emily?"

"What?" I pretended ignorance.

"You know what. Why? Why do you do it and put up with all this shit?" He waved his arms around, gesturing to the house, the van, everyone sitting in the garden.

I looked at the ground. "I don't know..." I don't know if he heard me, for my voice was little more than a whisper.

* * *

I remember handing one of my cups of tea to Effy as she slumped over the kitchen table, the spirit seemingly gone from her skeletal form. I always make two cups of tea, I ponder as I wait for the first to cool and drink and once I've finished I drink the other. Maybe I drink too much tea.

"Effy?" We'd sat in silence for almost an hour, our tea now cold. My hair had dried. I took her hand. "Effy, what's the matter?"

"Cook..." Her hand was shaking.

"Come on, Eff, you have to tell me." I tugged her shaking fingers slightly, talking softly.

"He's... Cook... He's dead, Emily." She looked me right into my eyes and my chest tightened. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she had no more tears to shed.

I was frozen with shock and it took a great effort to move the few inches toward the brunette and draw her into my arms. I couldn't cry and she was nearly spent. I sat with her for almost twenty minutes, the two of us silent and shaking.

"Right." I know we couldn't wallow in our grief. I hadn't been close to Cook, but he'd always been there. "I'm going to make us some hot chocolate and you're going to grab the quilts and pillows from my room." She looked up at me from a face smeared with mascara, eyes puffy and red. "And once you're down here I'm going to tidy you up."

She slowly unfolded herself from the wooden chair, using the table to prize herself up. She took small slow steps and I quickly bustled around the kitchen, heating a pan of milk and whisking in the chocolate drops to make it frothy. By the time Effy had come back downstairs, I was sat in the living room, the steaming mugs of hot chocolate sitting on the coffee table. If I wasn't still numb inside with shock, I would have laughed at her appearance. A great stack of quilts and pillows supported by two lollipop legs. She dumped them next to me and settled in-front of the fire.

"It's cold." Her voice was thin and dry. I leaned over and turned the fire on and we both choked as dusty air blew from the vents. I pushed a quilt and two of the pillows towards her cocooned her inside of them. She smiled weakly, "It's like a nest." I smiled back.

* * *

I remember when we ran out of plasters and we hadn't completely broken in our Doc Martens. The pain with each step we took brought tears to our eyes. Eventually, we just got over it, got used to the pain. I am scarred from the constant abuse of my poor feet. But the war left us with more than just sore feet and missing lovers. In fact, it wasn't all bad, there were some good times. Only they're harder to remember and fewer than the bad.

Like when me and Effy both decided that we'd make the most our situation when we'd both been made jobless. The occupiers, it seemed, wanted to keep the country in near poverty. Well, even though we did have copious reserves hidden in the eaves, we weren't taking chances.

Katie had already charmed her way into an Occupier-Approved job, and one at the height of fashion. She sold clothes and make-up and toiletries to the female Occupiers. She was happy, she'd found her niche. The foreign women loved her vintage looks and she often brought home more than was strictly allowed as the stockist turned a kindly blind eye. So we had nice smelling soaps and shampoos and could paint our nails. We always looked presentable.

"Ems?" Katie was leaning against the fridge in a floral button down dress that reached a conservative knee-length and strappy black shoes over flesh-tone stockings. "You and Eff, you need a job, yeah? I can get you something. The Ladies, they'd love you and we'd get more than I bring 'cause we're twins, yeah?" I looked at her and nodded slowly. "Well, they're looking for people at the Rec, someone to work in the café and someone for the stock room. Shall I put you forward?" She was smiling.

"Sure, Katie. Why not?" I walked over and hugged her, smelling the sharp-yet-sweet Chanel scent she now adored.

"Thank God, 'cause today's the only day this month the boss is in, so it's the only day I can convince his wife. Come by late, dress nice."

"Yeah, OK," But my response was pointless because it was an order and she'd already left the kitchen.

I heard the front door close and Effy stalked in with a sly smile on her face. "We'd better raid her wardrobe then, Ems."

* * *

It was dark, overcast, and raining heavily. And I was on my way home from town, where I'd been working in the café, serving tea and cake to the Occupiers. It was a hard job, you had to keep your wits about you. Some of the men tried to take advantage and some of them didn't trust you at all. But some were lovely and gave me tips and warned me about raids that might or might not happen in my area.

I was wrapped up in only a hoodie, despite the cold November weather. I really should have had a coat, but I was trying to harden myself to the cold that the winter would invariably bring. My feet were cold and water was seeping in through my shoes to dampen my socks. My jeans were sticking to me, the harsh rain and wind feeling like pins were being driven into my legs.

Because of the rain and the wind, because my hood was up and my head lowered against the elements, it was only at the last minute that I spotted the shadow coming towards me. I was almost home but the track felt isolated. No one was out at this time without good reason. Or bad. I hugged my bag to my chest and ran, hearing the pounding footsteps of the dark figure following. Each saturated breath was ragged and felt as though it was tearing at my throat and lungs. I slammed into the front door as the figure reached the gate and skidded to a halt, turning and disappearing into the night as Effy opened the door and I collapsed into her arms.

* * *

I know this is taking a lot of time, but I'm not really so confident with it. Also: any ideas on ships, please?


End file.
